#clum hood

[maluminspace]

Evil Author Day Part 5: Angsty Calum Sequel

I received a lovely anon asking for a sequel to this fic that I wrote last year. It’s on my list of things to finish 💕

Despite your apology, Calum is still irritable. It’s clear that he needs his space to calm down and you offer it to him by announcing that you’re going to bed.

He lets you leave the living room with nothing but a few distracted words. “Goodnight, we’ll talk more tomorrow, yeah?”

You nod your agreement, not wanting to push him on the subject. Heading up the stairs you allow your tears to fall. It’s entirely possible that you’ve ruined your chances of being proposed to by Calum for good.

Tag list: @clffrd @byxthexway @afuckingunicornn @painkillerash @moonchildsblack @calumbbyyy @h0tsos @loveroflrh @sexgodashton @megz1985 @myfalsedevotion @aulxna @honeyedlashton @tea4sykes @ghostofmashton @fairyintheglass @cashworthy @cashtonasfuck @opheliaaurora23 @5sosnsfw @wildmichaelflower @myloverboyash @loverofcashton @irwinkitten @cxddlyash @wildmalumflower @cashtonasff5sos @iovehemmings @kindawannacryx @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles

[lickmesimpson]

sometimes i just sit back and think.... Calum Hood. Calum Fucking Hood. y your fingers gotta be so long and perfect???? you were created for one purpose. SEX GODism...... and i guess to be punk rock

[lovesosweeet]

childlike wonder (c.h.)

Y/N does her makeup and Calum watches in awe. 

Idea from @tothemoonmikey :) 

You and Calum were going out to a nice dinner tonight after spending your day cooped up in his house, cuddling with each other and Duke on the sofa, watching TV and telling each other stories from when you were younger. You kept a small amount of clothes at his place so you could spend the night on whim and not worry about a lack of fresh underwear and jeans the next day. 

He puts on one of your favorite button ups and a pair of black pants, his favorite boots on his feet. He picked out his favorite of your dressy tops you had at his place, a flowy lace tank top with an open back, which you pair with your comfiest skinny jeans and intend to wear a pair of platform sandals after you did your hair and makeup. 

You sit down on the floor in front of his floor length mirror he has in his closet, plugging in your straightener and unzipping your makeup bag. Rubbing your primer into your skin, you realize you forgot to wet your makeup sponge. 

“Babe!” You call out.

“Where are you?” Calum asks in response. He’s throwing a toy around the living room for Duke while he waits for you. 

“Closet!”

Cal’s footsteps echo throughout the apartment, his face appearing in the mirror behind you a few moments later. “Yes?” He smiles at you, amused at the fact that you only have one eyebrow filled in.

“Will you dampen my beauty blender, pretty please?” You hold out the pink sponge over your head.

He takes the foam egg from your hand, eyeing it confusedly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You giggle, both at his expression and his actual question. “Turn on the water, let it run over it for a few seconds, turn the water off, and squeeze out as much water as you can.”

Calum nods and continues to stare at the tool in his fingertips as if it were the Sorcerer’s Stone. “Got it.” He nods to you before slowly retreating from the closet, holding the sponge out in front of him cautiously like a baby bird.

“Don’t rip it!” You add, realizing that he could squeeze it too hard when going to wring the excess water out of it, meaning you’d lose $20 because you asked your boyfriend to dampen your beauty blender. 

While he’s doing his best to fulfill your request, you finish filling in your eyebrows, adding a coat of brow gel on top to keep things fluffy. Duke comes in to the closet, a taco-shaped chew toy hanging from his mouth. He drops it in your lap and looks up at you with his large brown eyes, cocking his head to the side, waiting for you to toss the taco across the room. You smile at the little furball, doing as he wants and tossing the taco underneath the clothes hanger that holds Cal’s pants and a few hoodies. Duke pokes his head back out from under the curtain of jeans and slacks, the taco back in his mouth.

“What’re you doin’, buddy?” You ask him as he continues to stare at you. “C’mere, let me have the taco.” 

“Okay, I think I did it right,” Calum says as he reenters the closet, tearing your attention away from the sweet pup who stole your heart the first time you met him. He holds the sponge out to you, his eyes gauging your response as you squish it in your hands. 

“You did it just right. Thanks, bub.”

He smiles with relief.

You pump out some foundation onto the back of your hand, get some on the larger end of your sponge, and then start to bounce the liquid into your skin. You apply your concealer and powder, grabbing the eyeshadow palette you have in the bag and putting a color into your crease. You don’t realize that Calum didn’t leave the closet again, but instead he’s staring at you in awe as you blend out your eyeshadow.

“You’re really good at that,” he says.

His voice makes you jump, realizing that you’re not alone like you thought. “Jesus fuck, Cal, scare the shit outta me, why don’t you?”

Calum giggles as he leans against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest and his rings flashing as the light hits the different facets on the jewelry. “Sorry, I just never realized how much effort went into that, and how good you are at it.” 

You scoff, roll your eyes, and just continue doing your makeup. “Shut up, I’m not even that good.” 

“You’re way better at it than anyone else I hang out with,” Calum insists. “Like, seriously, some of those girls wear black eyeshadow and there’s like a line between it and the rest of their face and it’s not cute...” 

Though you may agree, and you’ve always wished you could teach those very girls about transition shades and blending brushes, you shake your head. “Makeup doesn’t have rules. If they like how it looks, that’s all that matters.”

He smiles at you, loving and admiring your nature to put a kind heart above all else. “Whatever, all I’m saying is, you’re really good at that.”

You continue to finish your makeup, topping off the eyeshadow with mascara and throwing on your favorite bronzer, blush, highlight, and lipgloss. Calum watches you with childlike wonder with each brush stroke. His expression, to be fair, is nearly identical to yours when you watch him on stage. The way he’s so content and plays the notes like it’s second nature, how he’s a totally different person when he sets foot on the stage or picks up his bass, and the way he so artistically sings each line of his songs. 

“Will you teach me?” He asks, referring to the makeup.

You’re starting on your hair now, quickly ironing out the strands that weren’t too ‘un-straight’ to begin with. “Sure, love. That way next time you guys wear glitter on stage you’ll put it in the right places.” 

wanna request something?

wanna look at my masterlist?

wanna read my wattpad fanfics?

taglist: @lasagnamichael @myboyfriendsadrummer @hemmings-heart @rosecth 

hmu if u wanna join my tag list or wanna be taken off :)

[lmarisunl]

Calum's thighs make me thirsty

[ausaplenty]

Not living

Kiara Scuro. Tabitha and Quinton Scuro. Reed Scuro. Canon verse

Prompt: A scene from your life as fanfiction. Not so much a scene from my life as a scene relevant to my life.

COVID hasn’t ended, so why should the writing challenge?

Kiara rested her feet on the rest pulled out of the examining table, pulling at her hood as if it would go lower over her face.

Socked feet strained, her toes barely brushing the ridged surface. The socks and leggings she’d been allowed to wear were tight around her left foot, bulky with bandages.

The Yale hoodie engulfed her frame, loose because of her lank body and its actual owner – The 6-foot-5 law student preparing to graduate and take the bar exam. Kiara inhaled, Reed’s sandalwood cologne still heavy on the freshly gifted garment.

“How are you still cold?” Reed teased, pinching her toes. The squeeze was muted by the heavy wool socks and the two blankets covering her feet.

“Meds,” she mumbled, burrowing further into her nest as she stared into the blurry flames dancing in the hearth. She hissed as the pain in her joints flared in response to the slight movement, burning hotter than the fire.  “Can’t get warm.”

Reed’s frown was barely perceptible in the dark room, only illuminated by the deceptively cheery blaze. The first thing her parents had ordered when they’d made the reservation at the Munich hotel was blackout curtains, the heavy material blocking the view demanded by the typical upperclass occupants of the suite.

He tugged hoodie over his head as he sat beside her. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “I haven’t had time to break this in, and it’s big enough you can fit a couple shirts under it.”

Kiara grunted, not moving because she knew the cost.

The crease between his brow deepened. With a sigh, he draped it around her shoulders like a cloak. “I’ll turn up the thermostat.”

The teenager coughed, curling forward with the force. She could feel Tabitha’s hands on her shoulders, steadying her shuddering body as Quinton hovered worriedly.

“Dr. Fuchs should be here soon,” her father said, trying to offer a modicum of comfort.

Kiara doubted it would make a difference.

Six years, four months and approximately three weeks since the light had become unbearable. Before, it had been minor – a prickling sensation beneath her skin, like an itch that couldn’t be scratched, gnawing at her – until it had grown.

“Starshine, come on,” Tabitha admonished from the doorway. “You’re going to be late for school.”

The 11-year-old groaned, pulling her comforter over her head to preserve the warmth she was loathe to escape from. She frowned at the feeling of cold air on her left foot, the lone appendage uncovered.

“Kiara –“

An anguished scream rent the air as the burning pain erupted in the preteen’s foot. She twisted, caught in the prison of her own making as she tried to figure out what was causing the injury.

She felt her mother’s hands at the edge of the blanket, pulling it away as she sought answers. Kiara cried out as the comforter was yanked free, her pain growing as the burning spread up her legs, through her arms and started to creep at her face.

In her throes, she saw her mother, shocked face staring down at her as the light streamed behind her. Something inside her bones screamed at her, telling her to get away from it. “T-turn it off,” Kiara begged, frantically tearing at the blanket. In her astonishment, the comforter slipped easily from her mother’s grasp and Kiara whimpered as the white-hot pain subsided.

“What’s going on?” she heard her father question desperately.

“Turn off the light,” Tabitha ordered. Kiara cried from inside her cocoon. “Starshine, it’s off. It’s dark again, but we need to see –“

The door opened and Kiara could hear the familiar hospital cacophony pour into the room as Dr. Fuchs stepped inside. His hand immediately went to the light switch before he faltered, remembering his patient. With an apologetic smile, he closed the door.

“Verzeihung - Sorry,” the balding brunet said clumsily in his heavily accented English. His eyes landed on Kiara, still doubled over coughing before he hurried to retrieve a bottle of water from the small fridge. He offered it to her as the hacking subsided and Tabitha helped her daughter sit up. “My apologies for your vait, I vas looking over ze results – haf zings been better since ve last spoke?”

Kiara sipped the water slowly, trying to catch her breath from the coughing. With a swallow, she opened her mouth to speak.

“She’s been feverish most days, and she can’t seem warm,” Tabitha supplied, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “She’s having a hard time keeping food down and she is kind of lethargic as well -

“And it hurts,” Kiara interjected.

“Some days, she doesn’t leave her bed,” her mother finished.

“Vell, some side effects are to be expected as your body adjusts to ze medication,” Dr. Fuchs explained.

Kiara knew about side effects. She knew more about clinical trials and pharmaceutical cocktails than some of the interns she met at the hospital.

“Ve vill up ze dose and see if zere are any changes,” the doctor said, opening the file.

Nausea washed over her and she lurched forward, barely holding back the bile until Quinton pressed a trash can into her arms. She heaved, emptying the meager contents of her stomach into the bin. She closed her eyes, her throat sore, and leaned against her father.

She could feel their gazes on her, worried and puzzled.

Dr. Fuchs spoke first, clearing his throat. “Your lab results show elevated levels of –“

“Is it working?” Kiara interrupted tiredly before the barrage of medical jargon could begin, all telling her the thing she already knew.

“As I vas saying, your CSR is –“

“I don’t care,” the patient snapped weakly. “You want to increase my dosage. Tell me it’s working.”

“Kiara!” Her mother chided, frowning at the blonde’s rudeness. “Dr. Fuchs, I’m sorry. Like I said, she’s been –“

“I’ve been holding my breath because it hurts to fucking breath,” Kiara growled, lifting her head to glare at the adults in the room. “Every move I make is excruciating and it’s not because of whatever fucked up disease I have.”

“Triptamiaphan has had extraordinary success vith patients diagnosed with solar urticaria,” Dr. Fuchs said stubbornly.

Steely gray eyes – hard, tired eyes – met his brown gaze.

“Do I have solar urticaria?” she ground out.

The German sighed. “It is ze closest condition to your symptoms.”

“But you can’t find any evidence that I have it?”

The silence was confirmation.

She sighed, her fingers digging into the waxy paper. “I’m done.”

Her father and the doctor protested, their voices clashing as they tried to make their points. Kiara stared past them at her reflection in the sterile, sterling silver cabinets. She didn’t feel like she was looking at herself. Her skin, while always fair, was ashy and pallid. Her face was thin and she had bruising bags under her cloudy eyes.

“Dr. Fuchs, may we speak alone please?” Tabitha asked, her voice carrying over the men’s.

“Of course,” the physician responded after a moment. He set her file on the desk, gesturing at them. “If you vant me to explain those results, ask ze nurses to contact me.”

Quinton waited until the door closed behind Fuchs. “Starshine, there are other doctors. Other options to consider.”

“We’ll find answers,” her mother assured her, rubbing her back comfortingly. “I promise, we’ll keep trying.”

“I don’t want them,” Kiara informed them.

“What about that new doctor in London?” her father supplied, raking his hand through his graying brown hair. “You could spend some more time with Charlie. Or Reed said there’s promising news at Johns Hopkins.”

“Dad, stop,” the 17-year-old demanded. “I know it’s hard. I know you think this is me being reckless and I’m just upset. But it’s nothing new.”

Six years, four months and approximately three weeks, she’d been trying find an explanation as to what was wrong with her. Three clinical trials, five misdiagnoses and god knows how many fucking pills later, she didn’t have an answer. She just knew that she wasn’t living.

“I’m tired,” she offered. “What I know is that even I’m not on all the meds, I feel fine. As long as I’m covered and cautious, whatever I have isn’t an issue.”

The blonde reached out for them, a wan smile on her lips. “At least give me a chance.”

[cutevirgo]

so was anyone gonna tell me calum changed his ig profile to one of the cutest sokka pictures or was I just supposed to find that out myself after seeing his post of silly bathroom stall pictures

[santacruzsand-blog]

i’m blessed as a calum hoe 

[rosepetallarrie]

Ok so imagine Calum being really nervous to take you out on your first day. It isn’t until the evening, but he’s just completely gone all day. Michael keeps yelling at him to return to Earth and he repeatedly walks into stuff bc he’s so far gone in his nervous thoughts that he doesn’t notice his surroundings. And he takes a shower early so he can spend a lot of time getting ready but he immediately regrets that bc he keeps sweating and getting patches under his arms. Finally after like nearly two hours spent solely on choosing the perfect outfit, styling his hair and trying all the tricks in the world (Luke, Michael and Ashton all helped him by googling) to stop sweating so much, he’s on his way. He stops by a cute little corner shop on the way where he wanders around aimlessly as he tries to decide how much cheesy is too cheesy but he ends up picking up a little stuffed puppy holding a heart between its paws. So he drives the rest of the way to your house and as he gets out of his car and walks up to your door he’s pretty sure he’s gonna poop his trousers out of sheer nervousness. He feels his heart race as he takes a deep breath and works up the courage to knock on your door bc no matter how nervous he’s been for the entire day, he’s been looking so much forward to this date. As you open the door and greet him with a huge smile his breath catches in his throat and he just stares at you completely flabbergasted bc he’s honestly never seen anything or anyone as beautiful as you. “Wow, um.. Hi. This- this is for you,” he stutters as he hands you the stuffed puppy. As a giggle escapes your lips he lights up in a smile and when you put your hand on his arm and thank him he finally feels more relaxed bc you just have that effect on him and he feels like he can be himself with you, feeling completely safe in your company.

I AM BLESSED!! This is amazing!!

[cliffclouds]

drag me down x she's kinda hot THIS IS AMAZING

[bxsideashton]

I always treat the boys like babies when they’re actually older than me

[hellapainyo]

I literally haven't watched the KCA's in years...

[the197harry-blog]

im muke af but lashton is alive and better than ever holy crap

[fredweasleyfreak]

So I realized I had never actually watched the Amnesia video, so I did and I'm crYING ASHTON STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! 

[rosecoloredcarly]

my emotional stability is smalla than a bug

[hemmotionless]

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